Accidental Magic
by margaritama
Summary: Trying to stay apart, only pulls you closer together. A Marriage Fic with a twist – a fun experiment in marriage, contrasts and distaste.
1. The New Mistress

The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story.

**Premise:** Trying to stay apart, only pulls you closer together.

**Summary:** Marriage Fic with a twist – a fun experiment in marriage, contrasts and distaste

**Warnings: **There is some mild smut in later chapters but nothing that is crazy. I have my more mature fics over at Granger Enchanted and AdultFiction.

**Authors Note(s):** A gift for my first ever betas! **t_stevenson**: I ain't gonna get mushy, you are a wonderful inspiration and friend. **Lady Lynn**: I cannot believe how generous you were to offer your help the way you did on Her Shoes. Thank you both and I hope you enjoy this.

Finally, thank you to **AydenDenise** for betaing this for me. Your help and insight were invaluable. Any mistakes are mine! Please note that this story is finished, its seven chapters in total. As the summary says, it was an experiment.

Please enjoy!

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The clicking of heels echoed throughout the floors of the recently renovated and redecorated Malfoy Manor.

The new mistress was inspecting some final touches before leaving to attend a meeting at the Ministry.

"Hermione."

A young woman, dressed in fine navy blue silk robes that clung in all the right places, turned to the voice of her mother-in-law, Narcissa Malfoy.

Smiling brightly, Hermione walked towards the blonde, elegant witch. "Narcissa, I was just ensuring that all the ancestral portraits were in the correct order that Lucius had instructed."

Narcissa Malfoy grinned at her daughter-in-law. Her once bushy hair was tamed into gentle waves of long, coffee colored soft curls that gleamed burnished copper in the sunlight. A creamy complexion tending more towards olive than peach was blemish-free. Her heart-shaped face showcased her dainty features – pert, upturned nose which didn't hesitate to look down upon ignorant fools, pink lips that could lash out at the most stout of men, beautifully shaped eyebrows that would often rise in disbelief, but her eyes were clearly her best feature.

Intelligent and sharp, her eyes could root anyone to their spot with a mere look. Naturally brown, they could range from a dark whiskey color to an even darker chocolate, depending on her mood. If the eyes truly were the portals to the soul, then Hermione Malfoy's eyes revealed one of great depth and emotion.

Hermione Malfoy, nee Granger, was not the typical Pure-blood beauty but she possessed a fresh-faced, more natural kind of rare loveliness that women sought to emulate through potions, charms and cosmetics.

The witch was tiny, not more than five foot three inches. Her body fit, not too slender, with generous curves which she kept in shape by running the grounds several times a week. Narcissa didn't understand her need for this exercise but it seemed to make the younger woman happy.

"I'm off to the Ministry. I have a meeting with Harry today. The Aurors have been helping me with the Centaur disturbances."

As Associate Director for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Hermione worked closely with the Aurors and Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She managed to maintain a well-balanced schedule that also allowed her to fulfill her social duties of the Malfoy family. There was little to no room for personal time but she preferred it that way. By the time she reached her suite of rooms and curled up next to a purring Crookshanks, she was exhausted and mercifully numb.

She needn't dwell on the state of her life or seek answers she knew she would never find. Instead, she would sleep and wake to a new day and same routine. It was serving her quite well for the last fourteen months since the Ministry had enforced the current Marriage Law.

It would not do to think of such things, however. Whenever Hermione allowed her mind to wander to the Marriage Law and her . . . husband, she'd experience a bout of accidental magic. The elves were still repairing the damage to the all-glass Solarium from the last time.

Narcissa's voice brought her back to the present. "We'll see you at dinner."

"Of course." She turned to leave, only to pause. "Narcissa, the year is nearly at an end. I'll be filing the papers shortly. I'm sorry."

The blonde witch nodded and fought back the sadness that engulfed her heart. "I understand." As Hermione walked down the corridor, Narcissa called out softly, "Hermione, we've loved having you as our daughter. If only for a little while."

The brunette witch picked up her pace before tears over took her in a rare display of emotional weakness.


	2. Calming Yoga Breaths

Thanks Ayden for betaing.

My gift recipients have now seen the posting so I shall slowly post more chapters every couple of days. Your patience is appreciated.

The previous chapter was meant to be short and sweet, a set up really. This one offers a bit more insight. Just so you know, the chapters in this story are not long. This was an exercise and challenge to see if I could write a multi-fic in a certain number of words.

Thank you to everyone that read and/or that put this on their alert. This little chappie is dedicated to **MyBodyIsBrokenYoursIsBent** for reviewing. Thank you so much!

I hope you enjoy! :-)

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Tossing her quill onto her desk, Hermione allowed her mind wander to the one topic she never discussed, thought about and barely acknowledged. Her husband.

She snorted. What a travesty of a description. Draco fucking bastard Malfoy was hardly her husband.

Since they had been matched fourteen months ago, he had all but disappeared. Hermione recalled her fear about the Marriage Law. All single wizards and witches between the ages of seventeen and sixty were to report to the Ministry to have their wands re-registered and some of their magic extracted. The process had taken nearly three months but upon completion, all the magic and information was stored. Using a modified ancient spell, each magical signature and wand was matched to find a spouse.

It was an effort to rebuild the magical community after the toll of the second war, now nearly five years gone. Additionally, the modified spell ensured all blood classes were mixed, in an effort to prevent future prejudice. It was their goal to have one type of blood – magical.

Hermione had been horrified to learn who she'd been matched. Resigned to her fate rather than have her wand snapped, she had waited for days for some word from the prick. Finally, after nearly a week, she had owled him.

The reply she received was unexpected. Lucius Malfoy sent his apologies and asked for a meeting. Agreeing, she had been surprised to find the prat was not in attendance. Instead, his parents had greeted her with somber expressions and explained he was away on an extended business trip but had asked them to offer their hand in friendship, in light of the new law, and welcome her into their family.

Mustering her inner Gryffindor, Hermione had accepted and moved forward with the engagement. During the following four months, Hermione had introduced her parents to the Malfoys, planned a wedding, moved into Malfoy Manor, struggled to win over her future in-laws, befriended the tow-headed twerp's mates and awaited word from her fiancé.

It never came.

Her wedding day dawned. It was to be an intimate affair with only the closest friends and family. What should have been the most beautiful day of her life turned out to be a nightmare.

Everyone assured her that he would be there. He wouldn't dare miss his own wedding. It just wasn't the Malfoy way.

Indeed.

She had refused to leave her suite until there was confirmation the groom had arrived. When the knock came, she rushed out, inexplicably happy. Her father had walked her down the aisle towards the figure waiting for her and in her silly bridal stupor, failed to notice the whispers and averted faces of the guests. No, she was too caught up in her fairy tale.

Arriving by his side, she had smiled and gazed up into the face of . . . THEO NOTT????

Embarrassed, Theo explained that he'd received an urgent owl from the git asking that he stand in for him at the wedding. Furious didn't begin to cover Hermione's emotions. She didn't know whether to cry, scream or hex someone. In her blind rage, she had her first resurgence of accidental magic, wilting every flower in the Malfoy Gardens.

So, Draco Malfoy married Hermione Granger by proxy. BY FUCKING PROXY! It was humiliating, to say the least.

After two months of non-blissful nuptials, she realized the coward would not be showing up –certainly not in the near future. That's when she threw herself into her work and hadn't looked back since. Still, not all had been terrible, the berk's absence and abhorrent behavior had managed to bring Hermione and the Malfoys closer. Though awkward at first, the forced time to spend together had chipped away at walls until all parties had come to a truce. Eventually, a form of friendship blossomed leading to revealing a side of the Narcissa and Lucius, Hermione wouldn't have ever expected. Now, they treated her like the daughter they never had.

They didn't discuss the subject of their son's behaviour or where he could possibly have gone. She knew stupid sack of Diricawl dung would withdraw small amounts of galleons from his private vaults at Gringotts, but that was all. She also knew the sniveling arse would owl his mother small notes to ease her worry.

Of course, he never wrote to her.

Now, nearly a year into her marriage, Hermione was planning on appealing to the Wizengamot for an annulment. After all, they couldn't expect her to remain married to a ghost? Not to mention the fact that every thought of him caused more damage to the Manor. In the last year, it'd been redone top to bottom. She just couldn't continue this way.

Her heart felt heavy. She loved Narcissa and deeply respected Lucius. Both begged her to not pursue this course of action but she was resolute in her decision. She was still young and could be matched to someone who would want her.

And that is what stung the most. Draco Malfoy didn't want her. She had fancied him a bit a year or so after the war because he seemed so different. Truthfully, she was just a teeny bit pleased to find they were matched.

But that was before he insulted and infuriated her by deciding to not be physically present for their wedding. Her wedding. Her fairytale bloody wedding . . . ruined . . .

Clenching and unclenching her fists, she gritted her teeth in anger. FUCKING, SODDING, PRICK, BASTARD . . . her office began to shake.

She took several deep calming yoga breaths.

Granted, she wasn't model gorgeous but she was pretty enough. Wasn't she? Of course she was. Blaise, Theo and Adrian never tired of complimenting her. And then there was that new American wizard working with Harry, Troy Davis. He was very handsome and she'd caught him staring at her more than once.

Squaring her shoulders, she nodded her head and went back to work. Perhaps, she'd invite Troy to lunch. In the name of international unity, of course.


	3. Allow Me

Go Ayden for betaing! All mistakes are mine.

Thank you to everyone who has read and/or reviewed. I can't tell you how appreciative I am of your support and kindness.

I do want to say, again, that the chapters are meant to be short. As I noted at the top of the story, this was a personal experiment and challenge to see if I could write a multi-chapter story in a certain number of words.

I am working on a very long piece now, though I'm not sure when it'll post as I want to finish it first. I do hope you enjoy this next chapter, albeit short. Shall we see where Draco's been? That bad, bad boy!

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The annual Malfoy summer ball was a success.

Hermione mingled with guests and acted the perfect hostess. Dressed in a navy blue Muggle designer gown rather than Wizarding robes, she cut a sexy and elegant figure among the crowd. The design had an alluring deep V-neck both front and back, defined by twisting details at the shoulders and center front.

She was about to accept Troy's invitation to dance when Narcissa's hand stopped her. "Please, excuse us Mr. Davis, but I must borrow Hermione."

Narcissa grabbed Hermione's hand and tugged her towards the ballroom exit. "Merlin, he's back."

They made their way to the family's private library. As they entered, a confused Hermione blurted out, "Who's back?"

A deep masculine sneer was the reply. "You're husband, Granger. Or should I say, Malfoy."

She spun in the direction of the voice and was stunned into silence by the male figure standing next to Lucius. Was that . . .? No!

No, no! Fuck, no. Not now, when she was submitting her appeal. Hermione could feel the magic in her body start to boil and bubble. She didn't notice the tiny sparks innocuously bursting throughout the room, like tiny bells tinkling in the wind.

It was Draco bloody Malfoy, in the flesh. The insensitive, self-centered, on-the-run, worst husband in the history of husbands was standing in from of her holding a glass of Firewhiskey. Not looking one bit remorseful.

And the bloody wanker looked so damn good. He stood six feet tall, his platinum blond hair shorn in layers with front bangs that settled over his eyes, strong chiseled features graced his handsome face and his body was one long, muscular frame. His deep grey eyes held her rooted to the spot.

Hermione could barely see from the pure fury coursing through her. "YOU!"

The bastard had the audacity to smirk. "Me."

There are moments when words just don't suffice. When actions seem to have a mind of their own. When the rage of a woman scorned is not only justified but warranted. This was one of them.

Lights flickered. Furniture scraped the floor. Walls reverberated. Glass tinkled. The very air seemed to crackle.

A worried Narcissa placed a hand on the trembling witch. "Hermione . . . the Manor."

The tumbler in Draco's hand cracked and splintered, the amber liquid coating his hand. At first he appeared shocked but then his gaze narrowed as he nodded his head. "Allow me, Mother." Clearing the shards from his hands before wiping them on his robes, Draco walked up to the fuming witch, gripped her tightly and kissed her.

Forcing her mouth apart, Draco savagely tasted her over and over again. He was angry and frustrated. And for the first time, in a very long time, he was aroused. He wanted to throw this slip of a woman on the ground and make her scream his name. He knew exactly what her magical display was about.

Upon discovering his match, he'd been flabbergasted. The idea of being married to bookworm Granger was just not something he could abide. The chit was annoying, not to mention she was much to short for his liking and not blond – everyone knew he preferred blonds.

Quite frankly, the fact that she was Mugggle-born was the last of his issues.

Meeting with her had seemed a waste of time, there was no way she could hold any appeal for him. Well, maybe once in Third Year and at the Yule Ball during Fourth Year, in Fifth Year her hair seemed more tame; Sixth was a blur and he recalled that by Seventh Year she had a decent arse. Since seeing her in Seventh Year, when he'd also returned to Hogwarts, he'd resigned to only dating blonds. Brunettes were too Granger-ish, damn it!

Therefore, he'd tried to run from this Marriage Law long enough have it null and voided. He thought he'd succeeded until he'd started having little magical accidents. It was small at first, glass breaking, and minuscule explosions but then it had escalated – turning a nearby Muggle blue in Italy, popping all the wine corks from an entire cellar of expensive elf wine in France, waking up naked in a field in Spain and having no recollection of how he'd Apparated there. Then, the most embarrassing of them all – he'd been unable to have sex. It didn't matter if she were witch or Muggle, blood be damned when you needed to get laid.

The results, with all of them, were deflating.

So, he had come crawling back home seeking answers. Reluctant, bitter and ferociously angry.

Then adding insult to injury, the minute this infuriating woman he hated with a passion, and was absolutely not attracted too, walked into the library he was immediately hard. His knees nearly buckled in relief knowing his cock worked, thank Merlin. But then he realized who he had a hard-on for.

Granger, the bushy-haired, know-it-all bitch.

Except, she wasn't bushy-haired. She was a like a miniature goddess standing there in her glorious, righteous anger, her hair loose around her shoulders and wearing a dress that showed off delectable skin and curves he had no idea she possessed.

Oh, he couldn't wait to fuck her! She wouldn't be able to walk by the time he was done. She wasn't going to leave his bed for days.

Hermione couldn't breath. Dear goddess, he was kissing her and then his hands were on her skin and she couldn't think. All the welled up anger, pent up resentment and, yes, sexual frustration seemed to bubble to the surface and she was kissing him back. Tugging and tearing at his clothes. His hard body felt deliciously right. All she wanted to do was drown in him.

Neither noticed the elder Malfoys' shock, and discreet exit.

Draco was pulling down the straps of her dress baring both breasts to the air. His mouth descended on her nipples, hot and demanding. He had backed her against the wall and one hand was bunching up her long skirt, creeping up her silky flesh towards her knickers.

Hermione's hands had pulled his shirt from his trousers. She caressed him over the fabric before unzipping them. Nimble fingers met the burning skin of his steel-hard cock.

This was unadulterated lust. She couldn't explain it. He didn't care.

Fingers delved into her slick folds while lips traveled back to up her neck. "I hate you," came the dark growl.

Hermione gasped then blinked. What had he just said?

Those words electrified Hermione to her senses. What was she doing with this man who had humiliated her? He had demeaned her, ruined her wedding day; and even now, in the heat of passion, insulted her.

Mustering as much strength possible, she shoved the pig from her body. As he staggered back, she raised her right hand and slapped him hard across his prattish face. "HOW DARE YOU!"

Straightening her dress and patting her hair, she gave him a withering glare. "Don't ever touch me again." Turning on her heel, she returned to the ball to dance with Troy Davis, leaving a stupefied husband in her wake, cradling his face and jaw.


	4. Weak Walls

Thank you again for everyone's reviews, enthusiasm and lovely words. This chapter is a bit longer, I went back and added some more, to try and appease many who asked for a longer chapter.

Again, thanks Ayden for betaing.

And now, Draco and Hermione come to an impasse.

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The next month was pure hell.

Hermione was livid over having her appeal denied. Her husband was now home, the Wizengamot noted. They could now get on and live a happy life together, they proclaimed. Doddering old fools! When she'd read their decision, the need to scream in frustration nearly caused her office ceiling to crash.

In protest, she'd taken to avoiding Draco's presence. She would rise early and get back to the Manor very late. She quadruple warded her suite, and on weekends ensured her schedule was brimming with seeing friends, family or working. She'd also begun enjoying lunches and brunches with Troy Davis.

The opposite of the blond baboon, Troy's wavy jet-black hair was styled short. Lovely brown eyes were expressive and smiling whenever he looked at her. Nearly as tall as her good-for-nothing husband, Troy cut a dashing, lean figure in his Auror robes. He was attentive and kind; he made her feel feminine, pretty and wanted. Unlike the moron she was chained too, who only wanted to get into her knickers. Of that much, she was certain.

Draco was equally livid. While pleased he no longer experienced spurts of accidental magic; he was displeased at not experiencing spurts of another kind, which namely involved shagging his very volatile wife. He despised his state of chronic arousal with no relief – wanking just didn't cut it. Drinking himself into a drunken stupor with Ogden's Finest was rather tiresome and boring, plus it wasn't working to keep thoughts of the irritable, gorgeous Gryffindor out of his mind.

Why did the damn minx have to be such a . . . minx? When did she grow up, looking less like a gangly colt and more like a seductive siren? Ugh, it's why he just shagged and dated tall blonds. Curly-haired, petite brunettes just got his insides twisted and tangled.

Granger got his insides twisted and tangled.

He was relaxing in the Manor's Solarium, plotting for the three hundred and seventy-second time how he could get into his wife's knickers, when he heard his mother's tone of disapproval. "You've only yourself to blame, Draco."

Without looking at his mother, Draco let out an exaggerated and dramatic sigh. "Yes. I realize my colossal error. I'm a wanker and hurt her deeply. Blah, blah, blah." He needed to get back to planning on how he could lure tumultuous vixen to his bed without getting hexed or worse. Once there, he'd tie her down so she couldn't go anywhere. He would ensure she would never want to leave.

Draco's bored drawl only served to infuriate Narcissa further. Huffing in fury, she glowered at her idiotic son. "And it's that attitude that will cost you Hermione's affections."

Glancing at his nails, Draco stretched his long legs and closed his eyes. All thoughts of trapping and baiting the chit flew out of his head. "Oh, Mother, I don't want her affections. I just want to tie her to my bed and shag her into the next century."

"Ugh!" Fed up, she prepared to exit but stopped and tried to reach her son one last time. "Draco."

His eyes remained closed.

"DRACO!"

Sighing, he opened his eyes. "Yes, Mother?"

Shaking her head, Narcissa's lips twisted into a scornful frown. "Is this how you plan on living? Don't you wish to experience genuine love? Or do you want to be this cynical, apathetic excuse of a wizard, forever? You don't see what's right in front of you. Hermione is the kind of woman any wizard would be honored to call their own. And Marriage Law or not, you will lose her. You already are and don't even realize it."

Pausing, she squared her shoulders. "And no matter how much I love you, I won't feel sorry for you when you realize what you wanted was within your grasp." Narcissa's gaze softened. "It's not too late, Draco. Do something while you can."

A deadly scowl flittered across his features as his mother departed, leaving him in dark turmoil.

*********************************

Two more weeks passed. Hermione continued to avoid and ignore Draco. Draco continued to prowl the Manor in frustrated agitation; all his schemes having failed thus far.

It all came to a head one bright, sunny Saturday morning.

Hermione was enjoying a bit of a lie in. It had been a long and stressful week and she'd gotten in late from a disastrous dinner with Troy. A sudden banging startled her out bed.

"YOU FUCKING SLAG! GET OUT HERE, RIGHT NOW!"

Confusion turned to contempt. "Get away from my door!"

"Listen Grang . . . Malf . . . Herm . . . BITCH . . . come out right now or, mark my words, I will blast your wards to high hell and drag you out by that bush you call hair!"

"Try it, ferret, and I'll make sure your hair never grows back!"

"Bucktooth beaver!"

"Buckbeak's bitch!"

"Worthless Muggle whore!"

"Shite-eating Pure-blood prick!"

"Mudblood!"

"Death Eater!"

"Open the door!"

"NO!"

"OPEN. THIS. FUCKING. DOOR!" He thudded both fists on the door in exasperation.

"NO. NO. NO. NO!" She pounded two teeny fists right back in indignation.

"I'm going to make you sorry you ever crossed me, you sanctimonious bint."

"Ha, like you could ever do anything, you pathetic, weak coward." Breathing heavily, Hermione added the final blow. "I would say go fuck yourself, but you can't even do that, can you? Poor little limp-dick Malfoy, can only get it up for a dirty Mudblood! Well, guess what? You can't have THIS Mudblood!"

Hermione was aghast at the filthy words spilling from her mouth but at that moment she only saw crimson. He pushed her buttons like no other, past boundaries of decency and reason, until she only felt boiling rage in her veins.

During their screaming match, neither noticed the walls around Hermione's rooms begin to weaken and crumble. With ever insult, another crack formed. With every scream, a chunk was dislodged. There was a tremor under the floors and rumble over their heads, which neither noticed.

The next thing they knew, they were on their backs coughing up dust and shaking splinters of plaster from their bodies. The walls seemed to combust on their own and then finally collapse, leaving only Hermione's door standing. Covered in white particles of grime, he strode around the door into his wife's room. He found her on her knees, gasping and hacking amidst the rubble.

Draco stalked her, his movements deliberate and menacing. "So, you self-righteous bitch, I can't have 'this Mudblood'?" Draco's voice was low. His face marred by a dangerous glower.

He knelt in front of her negligee-covered body and threw _The Daily Prophet_ on her lap. "But you let HIM have you?"

Glaring at him, she picked up the paper and scanned its contents. Her eyes went wide as a small hand went to her mouth in shock. "That's a lie! That's not what happened. I'm going to kill Skeeter!"

Plastered on the front page of _The Prophet_ was a damning article about Hermione's alleged affair with Troy Davis. It was accompanied by a picture of him, apparently, kissing her.

"Really? Do tell?"

Clutching the paper, Hermione shook her head, chunks of plaster and dust falling from her wavy mane. "He kissed me but I pushed him away. I'm not cheating. I would never. I-I . . ."

The realization of what she was doing hit Hermione, she was trying to explain herself to the sod. She took a deep breath and . . . she swatted her chest as she choked on small particles . . . big mistake. Gathering her wits, she shifted her eyes to Draco. "I'm sure you bedded plenty of slags while you were off gallivanting, you inbred parasite. So, if I want to go off and shag someone, I will."

He chuckled dryly, "Oh, hellion, I don't think so. You're my wife and as long as we're married, you won't be shagging anyone but your husband."

"I'd rather be _Crucio'd_," she spat nastily.

"That can be arranged," he whispered.

They were nearly nose-to-nose.

He towered over her, staring at her pouting lips. She gazed up at him, staring as his sneering lips.

"Hermione? Draco?"

Hermione pulled away as Draco cursed his mother's timing under his breath. At that point, his father joined them.

"What, in Merlin's name, happened?" Lucius looked quite comical standing to one side of the wall, hands on hips glaring at the couple covered in soot. "Well? Care to explain?"

Draco shrugged his shoulders, casually. "Weak walls."

Suddenly, the door creaked and thudded to the floor, kicking up a fresh cloud of dust.


	5. A Choice

Thank you so much again for reading and reviewing. I'm thrilled you liked the last chapter, and the fire and sparks our protagonists ignite in each other. It's a good thing the Malfoys have the galleons to do all those repairs.

Ayd, thanks again for betaing. I expanded this chapter a bit, thereby making it quite a bit longer – any errors are my own. I hope you enjoy. Only two chapters left.

Onward . . .

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In the month that followed, Draco watched the little termagant, known as his wife, closely.

He noticed her positive traits – worked hard, devoted to her friends, adored his mother, made his father smirk and luscious breasts.

Oh, Draco knew he was an arse, that he'd hurt her. He said he didn't care but deep down – albeit, very deep – he did. At times, he hoped for a smile or gentle glance thrown his way. It never came. Damn, he hated when his mother was right!

Hermione also, surreptitiously, watched him. He had become withdrawn, sullen and moody. No doubt from lack of sex, she snorted.

Embarrassed after that last row, she made sure to shun Draco as much as possible. Also needing to deal with the incendiary story Rita Skeeter had written, she distanced herself from Troy Davis. Feeling somewhat guilty at having given him the wrong impression, she explained she was still married and would honor the by proxy vows she proclaimed before friends and family. It wasn't in her nature to lead a man on and had profusely apologized to Troy. Needless to say, he'd not spoken to her since.

The choice to stop seeing Troy was borne from not wishing to cause the Malfoy name scandal, and only out of respect for Narcissa and Lucius, certainly not because of the blond bastard. He could rot for all she cared.

Additionally, she paid a long overdue visit to the insect of a reporter who had inked the nasty piece of gossip. Calmly and coolly, Hermione threatened and frightened Skeeter into issuing a very quick public retraction and apology. For the next month, Skeeter received an empty mason jar with holes poked out on top as a daily reminder of what Hermione would do should she be crossed again.

So, Hermione returned to the grind of a hectic daily schedule, coming home to pass out in a completely knackered state at the end of her day. She made sure to owl Narcissa in advance of her long hours as an explanation for her absence at dinner. Truth be told, she was tired of her life and avoiding the invidious git was taking its toll.

On a Tuesday morning, she was in deep discussion with Harry over the inexplicable nesting of snakes in the woods of Brownsea Island. She'd had this discussion with him at least three times and was at the end of her rope.

"Harry, you're a Parselmouth, go out there and ensure the snakes cease their encroachment outside of the woods. There's a group of Porlock's living there and I won't have their peaceful existence threatened." Hermione sneered at her best friend after smashing two fists on the table in sheer frustration. "Just get it bloody done, Potter!"

Staring at her wide-eyed, Harry nodded in trepidation, "All right, I'll go tomorrow."

Sinking into her chair, shoulders slumped and head bowed in shame, Hermione rasped out, "I-I'm sorry, Harry."

"Are you all right?" Concern was evident in his tone.

Looking up at him, Hermione blinked back a set of tears. "No, I'm exhausted."

"Of course you are. You're here at seven in the morning and don't leave until just before midnight. You're working yourself to death, Hermione. It's got to stop." Harry seemed suddenly angry.

Sighing in resignation, Hermione nodded her head in defeated agreement. "Yes, I know. But I don't know what to do about . . . Dra . . . my husband. Gods, I hate saying that."

Harry remained silent for a moment before replying. "Look at me, Hermione." He continued when he had her full attention. "What do you want?"

"I-I'm sorry, I don't understand."

Leaning forward, Harry stared at her with stony eyes. "What. Do. You. Want." He sat back. "It's not a difficult question."

Hermione was twisting her hands on her lap. "I . . . want . . . I . . ." With a small cry, she finally choked an honest answer, "I . . . want to be . . . happy."

He shrugged his shoulders. "So, go be happy. Even if you are married to the arse-hole of the entire bloody Wizarding world."

Biting her lip, she answered, "I don't know if he can make me happy."

Harry nodded seriously. "I agree. But, Hermione, no one can make you happy; you have to decide to want it. Then, let it happen."

The curly-haired witch grinned. "Like you and Pansy, I suppose?"

Barking out a laugh, Harry nodded and grinned back sheepishly. "Yeah, like us. Wasn't easy but we fit." Rising from his chair, he leaned over to give her a small peck on her cheek. "Think about what I said."

"I love you, Harry."

"Love you, Mione."

Feeling lighter for the first time in weeks, Hermione focused on work. At ten o'clock, she finally stumbled through the Floo into the Manor library. Joints stiff from sitting, she arched and stretched her body before trudging her way to the door.

"Long day?"

Startled, she turned to find Draco reclining on one of the settees. "Goodness, I didn't see you."

He nodded, "How was work?"

Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, she paused before responding. "Fine."

"I've been thinking . . ."

Hermione didn't recognize or trust this calm, rational Draco. In fact, he made her uncomfortable. "Bully for you. Good night."

"Please. Hear me out."

She halted and turned, crossing her arms and staring haughtily. "Why?"

Draco sighed, running his hands through his hair, "Because we don't have a choice. Like it or not, we're married. Like it or not, we can't divorce. Like it or not, we're going to have to produce a child. I, for one, am exhausted of living like strangers."

He took a breath. "Therefore, I propose a truce. I shall endeavor to be more civil, if you agree to do the same. Perhaps, we can make this marriage work, somehow."

Eyes wide, mouth agape, she was literally shocked. Recovering quickly, she said, "Who are you and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean . . . er . . . H-Hermione."

She gave him a deadpan stare.

Slightly irked, he groused, "Would you kindly not stare at me in that fashion?"

"All right . . . _Draco_." She smirked when his eyes narrowed to slits, in response she raise an eyebrow. "Something wrong . . . _Draco_?"

Draco rose from the settee and straightened to his full height. He suddenly seemed to take on a different demeanor, walking towards her slowly. "No . . . _Hermione_."

Her smirk faltered. "What are you doing, Draco?" She didn't like that little glint in his eyes.

"Nothing . . . _Hermione_." He reached her and looked down into her now wary brown eyes. "What's wrong, _Hermione_?" His voice had dropped an octave as he bent to whisper into her ear. "Do I make you nervous, _Hermione_?"

Hermione felt as if she'd been _Stupefied_ to the spot. All she could concentrate on was the heat radiating off his muscular frame, his hot breath flicking over her skin, his words caressing and sending small shivers down her spine.

Merlin, was that the tip of his tongue? Galvanized into action, she backed away from the potent male she called husband, very quickly. "Yes, well, your recommendation seems fine." She nodded curtly, "I'll be more civil . . ."

"And you'll try to get along with me?" He brushed a stray curl from her face.

She took a step back. "Yes, of course. As long as you grant me the same courtesy."

"Of course. And you'll try to come home a bit earlier? Perhaps, we could have dinner together." Draco took a step closer.

She was tired, slightly aroused and could feel her defenses weakening. Needing to make a hasty exit before she threw herself at him, she replied without thinking, "Yes, yes, of course . . ." Inhaling deeply, she bid him good night and, as gracefully as possible, bolted from the room.

He grinned wolfishly.


	6. A Maelstrom

Thanks again to everyone for your support and reviews. I'm so happy you are enjoying this little story. I do so like to write from a more comedic perspective and it seems you like it as well. Thank you to everyone who noted that I tried to do my best to keep the characters canon – that is so important to me. I can't tell you how much it means that you feel that I've succeeded in doing that.

Now, I wonder what happens next? Hmmmm *taps chin*

PS: thanks to my lovely beta, again, all mistakes are mine!

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If she didn't know better, Hermione would swear that her husband was attempting to . . . she swallowed in distaste . . . woo her.

Flowers, books and other presents would be waiting in the corridors outside her newly repaired bedroom, daily. Confused, she would thank him coolly at breakfast and go about her day only to find him waiting for her in the library every bloody evening. He claimed he wanted to merely . . . she shuddered . . . talk.

It completely unnerved her. She continued to work even later hours, completely forgetting her conversation with her woo-determined husband.

Draco, naturally, knew exactly what he was doing. What he should just done from the start – soften up the little witch to make her his. Swallowing in distaste, he realized along the way that he . . . dear Merlin . . . l-l-liked her.

She was quite pretty – beautiful, even, when she was burning in anger. The more he watched her, the more he allowed his long buried longing for the temperamental slip of a witch to surface. Oh, he truly, madly, deeply despised when his mother was right! More so as of late, when his damn wife was not keeping up her end of the bargain, yet he was trying to be a gentleman.

It would be nice if she reciprocated by actually being home and making an attempt to talk to him. Didn't the little she-demon realize that he was being . . . oh, fuck him . . . nice? He sent presents, left notes, made conversation, was polite when he saw her, stopped making rude comments, not yelled and had controlled his temper. And what had she done? Spoken to him in clipped tones, acted even more distant, barely acknowledged him and continued to keep late hours at the office.

He'd reached the end of his tether after a month and half of their 'truce'. She was going to deal with him, whether she wanted too or not! As was his norm, he waited for her in the library, rising as she came through the Floo after yet another late-night working session.

Draco was quite angry by this point. "It's about bloody time." He towered over her, threateningly.

Hermione looked up into the furious face of Draco Malfoy. "Pardon?"

"Are you shagging Davis?" Draco took a step forward.

Hermione tip-toed back. "How dare you? I'm doing no such thing!"

"Why else would you be working late every sodding night?" His fists clenched in frustration.

Her hands itched from the need to slap him again. "Because I'm working! You should try it sometime, you salacious sluggard."

"I do work, you shrieking Hydra. I just work normal hours, unlike you. Why can't you ever be home early?" Feeling as if he was going to complete go barking, he took a deep breath.

"Why would I do that?" Hermione place one hand on her hip and glared.

Draco was going to strangle her, he was sure of it. "Because you promised to try; you infuriating, insane Harpy!" Shite, he was yelling.

Fuck it – they needed to suss this out.

"Don't you dare raise your voice at me, you man-whore." A tiny finger poked him in the chest.

Draco raised a white-knuckled, closed hand to his mouth, and then pointed a finger at the heart-shaped face looking at him in fury. "MAN-WHORE? Listen here, shrew; I haven't fucked a woman since our signatures were matched. I'd like to fuck you but you're nothing but a closed-legged, little puritan who probably couldn't please a man."

Neither noticed the flames in the hearth activate and leap.

She smiled cruelly. "Did you think I played the virginal wife this entire time?"

Draco stalked her. "That had better not mean what I think it does, Hermione."

Floorboards rattled. Walls bowed. Moldings popped.

"You married me by proxy, since you weren't here for our wedding night . . . well, a girl has needs . . ."

An invisible wind whistled low in the enclosed room.

Low, dark and deadly, he whispered, "Witch, do not fucking toy with me!"

"Why not? You toyed with me!" she hissed in response.

He had backed her towards the settee and gripped her arms; her fury rivaling his own. By now, the library walls were rattling, furniture was levitating and books were whirling about the room.

His head bent low, lips hovering over hers. "Stop the games. Stop fighting me. Stop fighting us. I'm sorry I left. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm just sorry!" Shaking her gently, Draco realized that he actually meant the words.

Time seemed to stop. Draco stared at her with heartfelt longing. Hermione gazed back in honest fear.

Blinking back sudden tears, Hermione continued to look up at her husband, whispering, "I'm afraid."

Letting out a breath he didn't even know he was holding; Draco nodded in understanding. "So am I."

Then he kissed her.

Suddenly, his hands, lips and tongue were dancing everywhere over her skin. She could feel her body melting under his expert ministrations. He was rough, yet tender; dominating, yet playful. She wanted to touch his hard, muscled body and slide her palms over his skin. To feel what she did to him. He kissed his way down her neck and she could only tilt back allowing him better access.

Damn, but this woman was divine. Her skin was soft and she was so genuine in her responses that it only urged his need for her further. Anywhere he touched he could feel her shiver in delight, moan in passion or whimper in want. Coupled with his long-term celibacy, it had him on edge. He needed to take his time and not overwhelm her with his desire to just thrust into her. No, it took all his will to caress and lick her sweet body until she was hot and wet for him.

Neither noticed the contents of the room rise up in a maelstrom surrounding them as they tumbled onto the settee. Neither noticed the bubble of magic encasing them as they tore each other's clothes off in a desperate frenzy. Neither noticed the waves of magic emanating from their intertwined figures as they bit, sucked, tasted and explored naked, delicious skin. Neither noticed the sudden stillness and whoosh of silence as Draco plunged his cock into a very virginal, willing Hermione.

By the time he had kissed away the tears, offered soothing words to relax her; there was a warm, golden glow pulsing around their joined forms. Shallow, gentle thrusts gave way to a powerful, faster rhythm. Beads of perspiration trailed down their bodies. Soft caresses, interweaving of fingers and words such as "mine" and "finally" lost in between grunts of "yes" and moans of "oh", solidified invisible threads forever weaving the couple together.

Heavy panting and calling out of names carried on their breath; culminating in a brilliant explosion of mutual bliss and true, tangible magic as old as time.

Resting in each other's arms, the new lovers fell into soothing, dreamless slumber.


	7. Sigh in Relief

My apologies on taking so long to post this very last chapter but the amazing hermionelovesharry07 offered to do a banner for this little fic, so I was waiting for her final work of art. Go over to my "profile" page to for a link to see what it looks like, I hope you liked it. I thought it rocked so much that I am dedicating this last chapter to her. THANK YOU DOLL!

And so, here is the last installment of Accidental Magic. Just a reminder this was written for both the amazing t_stevenson (Diamond in the Rough, Restless) and redheadfaerie (By Reason of Birth). Please go read their amazing fics. Thank you to everyone who read and/or reviewed. I appreciate you taking this ride with me.

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The clicking of heels echoed throughout the floors of Malfoy Manor. The young mistress was huffing angrily as the young master grabbed and dragged her into the nearest empty room, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Hermione . . ." Draco growled out.

"I'm pregnant, ferret, not incapacitated."

"Why must you make everything so difficult, you screeching gorgon? I love you and I'm merely watching after your health."

"Well, I love you as well, fossilized Velociraptor. And I insist you ravish me this instant."

Draco Malfoy let out the equivalent of a low roar and clenched his fists, he hated when she insulted him in Muggle terms. In a deceptively sweet voice, he attempted to reason with the irritating love of his life. "Sweet, the Healer said you need to rest. For Merlin's sake, I just fucked you not even two bloody hours ago."

Pouting prettily, a six-month pregnant Hermione stomped her foot. "And I want another go, Draco!"

"Hermione, you need to rest." He gritted out. She didn't say a word, only stared at him with those big, brown eyes that drove him insane. "Stop looking at me like that, you little vixen. The answer is no!"

Smirking, she only shrugged her delicate shoulders and slowly unbuttoned her robes.

"NO, Hermione! NO." Draco closed his eyes the minute her fingers reached for the first button, steeling his resolve to not allow the damn siren to seduce him yet again.

Breathing deeply, he opened them only to find her standing in front of him wearing a black sheer tie top with a wide plunging neckline and her full breasts nearly spilling out. His breathing sped up as he traveled down her body and eyed her rounded belly, swollen with their child.

He nearly whimpered as his gaze dropped!

MERLIN – she was wearing his favorite knickers. A sexy low slung thong with over-sized tie side bows in pure silk satin rested on her hips, the long ends of the bows cascading down her creamy thighs. His mouth watered at the though of pulling them apart with his teeth.

She was beautiful. He was doomed. And she knew it as she strutted over to him with a lascivious little grin.

"Noooo, you're supposed to rest . . ." Rolling his eyes towards the heavens, he knew he was beaten. His cock hardening at the sight of her, he allowed her delightful fingers to shrug his robes off, tug his shirt out and unbuckle his trousers. "Gods, you are going to be the death of me."

Grinning sinfully, she slid to her knees in reply. "I can't help it if pregnancy puts my libido in overdrive."

He groaned when he felt her wet, warm mouth envelope him.

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The morning after that fateful night many months ago, when their magic joined, Hermione and Draco had awoken refreshed and in harmony with one another.

Ever the brilliant witch, Hermione surmised their powers had been displaced because they hadn't completed the bonding ritual tied to the modified ancient spell used to match their magical signatures. It was part of the Marriage Law fine print that couples needed to spend as much time together as possible into order to have their magic attune itself to each other. With Draco gone, it made their magical core volatile, peaking their emotional states, hence the bouts of accidental magic.

Their initial lure to each other was their magic speaking to them, trying to bring them together. Inevitably, lure led to lust, lust morphed into like, like blossomed into love and love expressed itself through many nights of sexual exploration and pleasure.

Oh, their relationship was still volatile but arguments would quickly turn to passion and disagreements were quickly muffled by languid kisses until the only screams uttered were one another's names.

And with their eventual joining, Hermione and Draco stopped having magical accidents. No more cracking walls, crashed ceilings, wilting shrubbery, flying books, ripped up floorboards, shattering glass, shredding of furniture or invisible wind storms.

Malfoy Manor seemed, literally, to sigh in relief.

-fin-


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